Husb.—­That’s true, but I see it is otherwise now; and though I cannot help it, I could not mention it to you, nor, for ought I know, should I ever have done it.

Wife.—­Why! you said just now you should have done it.

Husb.—­Ay, at last, perhaps, I might, when things had been past recovery.

Wife.—­That is to say, when you were ruined and undone, and could not show your head, I should know it; or when a statute of bankrupt had come out, and the creditors had come and turned us out of doors, then I should have known it—­that would have been a barbarous sort of kindness.

Husb.—­What could I do?  I could not help it.

Wife.—­Just so our old acquaintance G—­W—­did; his poor wife knew not one word of it, nor so much as suspected it, but thought him in as flourishing circumstances as ever; till on a sudden he was arrested in an action for a great sum, so great that he could not find bail, and the next day an execution on another action was served in the house, and swept away the very bed from under her; and the poor lady, that brought him L3000 portion, was turned into the street with five small children to take care of.

Husb.—­Her case was very sad, indeed.

Wife.—­But was not he a barbarous wretch to her, to let her know nothing of her circumstances?  She was at the ball but the day before, in her velvet suit, and with her jewels on, and they reproach her with it every day.

Husb.—­She did go too fine, indeed.

Wife.—­Do you think she would have done so, if she had known any thing of his circumstances?

Husb.—­It may be not.

Wife.—­No, no; she is a lady of too much sense, to allow us to suggest it.

Husb.—­And why did he not let her have some notice of it?

Wife.—­Why, he makes the same dull excuse you speak of; he could not bear to speak to her of it, and it looked so unkind to do any thing to straiten her, he could not do it, it would break his heart, and the like; and now he has broke her heart.

Husb.—­I know it is hard to break in upon one’s wife in such a manner, where there is any true kindness and affection; but—­

Wife.—­But! but what?  Were there really a true kindness and affection, as is the pretence, it would be quite otherwise; he would not break his own heart, forsooth, but chose rather to break his wife’s heart! he could not be so cruel to tell her of it, and therefore left her to be cruelly and villanously insulted, as she was, by the bailiffs and creditors.  Was that his kindness to her?

Husb.—­Well, my dear, I have not brought you to that, I hope.

Wife.—­No, my dear, and I hope you will not; however, you shall not say I will not do every thing I can to prevent it; and, if it lies on my side, you are safe.

Husb.—­What will you do to prevent it?  Come, let’s see, what can you do?